


Christmas Dinner in the Badger's Den

by theleaveswant



Category: Firefly
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-14
Updated: 2009-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-20 16:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleaveswant/pseuds/theleaveswant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas Eve—Badger makes a generous offer, but what are his motives?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Dinner in the Badger's Den

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2006 for a holiday drabble fest.

“We done here?” Mal asked, handing back the third form Badger had presented him for initialing, to indicate that he had, in fact, received payment this time.

“Yeah, just about,” Badger confirmed, marking his own ledger, and Mal stepped away from the table to join his first mate.

“I’d say it was a pleasure doing business with you, but this ain’t the Eve for lying.”

“Aren’t you just precious?” Badger grinned patronizingly. “Happy trails.” Mal sketched him a mocking salute and turned to leave.

He caught them with a loud “Erm” as they were about to cross the threshold. They waited for him to follow up on his noise, which he didn’t until they took another unison step out the door, at which point his chair squeaked as its occupant shot to his feet.

Mal glanced warily at Zoe, who frowned in agreement, and turned to look back at the diminutive grifter. “There something else you wanted, Badger?”

“Oh, no, nonononono,” he smiled mildly until they were about to turn around again, then said “well, sort of.”

Mal scowled; Zoe raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“Either of you ever been to Dyton ‘round Christmastime?” Two nonplussed shakes of the head. “Oh, it’s lovely. Gets a knee-deep dumping of snow, like clockwork, every year, ‘cross the whole colony. Now, Persephone’s nice, so far as climate goes, in fact much of the year I far prefer it, but it just does not feel like Christmas.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that,” Mal said, considering the frankly balmy weather they’d experienced on the walk to Badger’s office. “What’s it got to do with us?”

“Well, y’see now, I try’n get home every year to visit me ol’ mum—she’s a dear, my mum. I’ve offered a hundred times to set her up in a top-drawer flat here or on Beaumonde, anywhere she wants, but she’ll have none of it. Won’t hear of leaving that old cottage. Anyway, I try to get back an’ see her if I can, but this year, what with all the stink over that attempted coup on Boros and all, I just couldn’t arrange passage in time.”

Mal looked at Zoe, trying to puzzle out what Badger wanted. It was more than a three day journey to Muir, the world on which Dyton had been founded, so there’d be little point in fishing for a ride.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Zoe, politely. “My own mother passed some years back and I often regret not spending more time with her.”

Badger flushed, clearly embarrassed, “Yeah, well, she’s a tough ol’ bird, innit, my mum, an’ I’ll get round to see her as soon as I can to make up. It’s just . . . well, since I’m here, this year, and you’re here, and, well, it being Christmas and all, it wouldn’t be at all neighbourly if I didn’t at least invite you to . . . stay for supper?”

Mal blinked. “Didn’t know ‘neighbourly’ was in your repertoire, Badge. What are you really asking?”

“Nothing! Just, I got plenty of food set by, an’ I figured you lot could do with a hot meal.”

“That so?” Mal sucked his teeth and looked appraisingly at Badger. “And would we be your only dinner guests or have you also extended this invitation to, say, law enforcement officers or representatives of the Alliance military?”

“Is your opinion of me really so low? No, you would be my only guests. This is a gesture of kindness, and one I’ll very quickly regret making if you’re going to look down your nose like that.”

“Well, we thank you for your consideration, it was very generous of you, but we’ve really got to—“ Mal turned once again towards the exit but froze at a sound he never expected to hear.

“Please?” Badger asked, sounding almost desperate.

“Excuse me?”

“Would you stay for supper, please?” Mal looked back at Badger, who shifted uncomfortably, then shared a skeptical glance with Zoe. “Only . . . I don’t want to be alone.”

“What about your . . . employees?” Zoe asked. The dark warren of offices and warehouses that was Badger’s lair had seemed surprisingly empty when they came in.

He scowled. “Oh, I gave them the night off. They’ve all got children or sweethearts or something.”

“Those selfish bastards,” Mal said.

“You’re telling me. So, are you staying?”

The captain made a face, struggling to find the words to turn him down without alienating the important contact, or angering the man who had just humbled himself so pitiably before them.

“Look, I got a ham the size of a two-year-old and a case of real brandy, grade-A stuff, never seen the inside of a bathtub. You can bring your whole crew. We don’t need to talk or nothin’, just get pissed and watch the Dickens broadie on the Cortex. What’d’ya say?”

Mal sighed. “We’d be happy to. Zoe?”

The first mate nodded and made for the exit. “I’ll round them up. Sir?” she added, pausing with a smile and a hand on the doorframe, “Merry Christmas.”

Badger beamed and clapped Mal on the back. “Cheers, mate! Here, gimme a hand with the flue and we’ll get a real fire going. Have this place looking hospitable in no time!”


End file.
